Enough to make you say “Holy freaking crap…”

We were sitting in Coldstone when Erin asked me, “Who do you think will get married first?” She was referring to the girls in our Sunday small group, fondly referred to as “Smag”, which we formed during our last years of high school. I distinctly remember both our answers. Erin said, “Molly.” But I said, “You.” She laughed and asked me why I thought she’d be the first on the marraige hit list, but no matter how many times I said “You’re the oldest”, she was never satisfied.

This afternoon, I puroused Travis’ blog and learned of a recent engagement between two beautiful friends of mine. Erin and Josh are to be wed May of next year. I should have made a bet with Erin. I would probably be looking at some money right now. Or a neck rub at least! But who knows if one of us will decide to elope in the next twelve months–it’s never certain until those final “I do’s”.

My friends are getting married. Holy freaking crap. I have friends who have fallen in love. They have found the person they want to spend the rest of their lives with. Erin and Josh. Ryan and Sarah. From my weak-minded 20-year-old perspective, it’s one of the strangest concepts. Soon, I’ll be attending married couples’ house parties. I’ll find myself amidst other singletons, admiring our hosts and all asking ourselves when it’ll be our turn. And oh, the stomach churning I will be forced to endure upon hearing the words, “Well, it was nice to have you. But we have to go to bed now.” It is no longer a matter of taking his girlfriend to her home but to his bedroom instead.

I am not envious. Or jealous. I don’t even suffer from a ridiculous case of wishful thinking. Plainly speaking, I’m just wierded out. We dream about falling in love and getting married and where we’d love to spend our honeymoon, but actually experiencing those things is completely different. There’s a reality to it all that is vastly misunderstood. This is it, kids. You’re done. You are bound to each other from this moment forth. Kiss and be merry. Toast your glasses to each other and remember how it all began, with a simple “Hi, my name is…”

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